


A Promise Made (A Tale of Five Kisses)

by baker_and_fangirl



Category: Purple Hyacinth - Ephemerys & Sophism (Webcomic)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2020-12-25
Packaged: 2021-03-11 00:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28306119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baker_and_fangirl/pseuds/baker_and_fangirl
Summary: Kisses exchanged between two boys as they grow up.
Relationships: Dylan Rosenthal/Kieran White
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	A Promise Made (A Tale of Five Kisses)

Kieran ducked inside the hidden divide between the wall of the shed and the rabbit hutch as the voice echoed slowly down to one. Modified versions of games like hide and seek, or tag were used to see how well they could hide, how fast and quiet they could be, and how unnoticeable they were. Belladonna seemed to always delight in viciously beating whoever was found first so it was best to stay hidden for as long as possible. As he settled against the back, he bumped against someone and jumped back to see Dylan.

Of course, his roommate would pick the same spot as him. 

“This is my spot, get out.” He yelled in a whisper.

Dylan got a mulish look on his face, his pale eyes flashing. “I was here first, you go.”

“No, you!”

“You!”

A rustling sound far off caused both teenagers to freeze, hands slapped over their own mouths, waiting for the sound to pass by. As the sound faded away Dylan let out a muffled giggle of relief.

Kieran chuckled behind his hands, neither really trusting their safety until the sounds of another person being located reached them (it was a triumphant yell from Belladonna and a crash as the teenager fell out of the tree they were hiding in) but the game was still going so they remained, pressed shoulder to shoulder, leg to leg behind the hutch.

If they weren’t where they were, it would be almost nice.

Kieran had to admit, he did rather like Dylan. He hadn’t been sure about the other boy at first when they’d been slotted to room together. They had separate desks, separate beds, and rarely spoke except to softly cry late at night.

Kieran froze at the feeling of Dylan’s lips against his cheek, so light and quick that if he hadn't turned and seen the bright red of his face, he would almost think he had imagined it. Dylan looked away, hiding his face, even as Kieran wrapped his arm around Dylan’s shoulder. The blush got more pronounced when he kissed him in return. 

They sat in the warm afternoon sun, behind the rabbit hutch, closed off from the rest of the world and ignored the truth that was waiting outside.

* * *

“Hey Kieran.” The flash wasn’t as bright this time around. Maybe it was because of the afternoon sun coming in through the window. It lit up the small, shed Dylan had been given to develop film in. The quick version was easier for missions but the longer process here at the base produced better pictures. Dylan had asked him to pose for a series of portraits, so he could test the current batch of chemicals and they had chosen the shed as it provided the privacy they wanted and let Kieran check on the hyacinths he was growing. It had taken a while, but with Dylan’s help he was developing a green thumb. Being the son of a gardener came in handy he supposed. 

“Hm?” Kieran said as he listened as the sound of a camera being wound up, his eyes focused on his sketch in front of him.

“Why are you always drawing?”

Kieran thought for a moment. Despite it being a rather odd question, it wasn’t an unexpected one. “Hm, well, have you ever felt that tinge of warmth when you see those subtle moments in life that remind you humanity can be beautiful?” At Dylan’s slow nod, he continued. “I draw them so I can keep it. This sense of humanity, I don’t even want to lose it.”

Dylan chuckled a little. “Ever the poet. Maybe you should start writing prose to go along with those.”

Kieran added a touch of shading to the sketch of Dylan from their last afternoon free of duties when they had gone swimming. They were drying off in the warmth of the sun and Kieran had been struck dumb by just how handsome he was. His shoulders and chest were filling out as he gained muscle in his legs and arms that turned him from lanky into someone who gave powerful punches while Kieran remained lean and fast. Kieran was no less powerful, but he depended more on speed than force. During sparring sessions, it was decided by inches given how unmovable Dylan was becoming, and how fast Kieran could be when he wanted. Their messenger had tutted about needing to buy Dylan more shirts that fit him soon, since at sixteen years old he would go through at least two more growth spurts. 

“Would you like me to dedicate a poem to you, dear?”

The flush on Dylan’s face was worth the playful shove. “Don’t be so sappy, it’s embarrassing.”

Kieran laughed a little before turning his eyes to the camera Dylan had grown to love. “Why do you take pictures?”

It was Dylan’s turn to contemplate his answer before he chuckled without humor. “Honestly? To preserve the truth. To prove that things are real.” He was looking out the window, out onto the green of the woods, to where they knew a lake was, and beyond that a fence and a town that they were not allowed to see.

Kieran was a little startled by that response, but he remained silent, allowing him to continue.

“It feels like sometimes, the world is slipping away. The world outside of here, the world of before. It's hard to remember what my Mom looked like. The way my Dad sounded when he laughed. That my friends before that day were even real, even though I can still hear them calling for me in my dreams. It feels so far away Kieran. Like smoke, or fog in the morning.” Dylan was alternating between squeezing his hands into fists and releasing them. “I want to make sure I don’t forget.”

Kieran moved his sketch pad and went to stand against him. He didn’t say anything, just pressing his body against Dylan’s back. Kieran was still slightly taller, but he wasn’t sure for how long that would last. He looped one arm around Dylan’s waist, and rested his head comfortably against Dylan’s shoulder before picking up one of his hands, uncurling it from a fist and bringing it to his mouth so he could kiss the inside of Dylan’s wrist. “I would never forget you.

Dylan’s breathing was shallow and shaky, and Kieran did the decent thing and didn’t comment on it. He waited, holding Dylan to him until the other teen briefly scrubbed at his eyes before turning back to Kieran. His eyes were wet, but he hadn’t heard or felt him cry. Dylan set down the camera and used his now free hands to cup Kieran’s face, kissing his mouth in that slow, methodical way he did everything, taking his time to savor it. Kieran’s kisses were fast and stunning, but Dylan kissed deep, stealing the breath from Kieran’s lungs. When he had taken his fill, Dylan leaned back, breaking the kiss. “Enough of that. You promised to pose for a picture, so stop moving around so much and pick a spot.”

Kieran took the hint. “Just make sure you get my best side,” he teased as he grabbed his sketch pad and retook his spot in the sun. 

“If you want me to take a picture of your ass, we will need to rethink the pose.”

* * *

Kieran flinched as Dylan applied the herbal mixture to his shoulder. When he’d shown up shot the other teen had dragged him into their room, forced him to sit on the bed and dug out the first aid kit all without saying a word. 

Kieran would almost rather Dylan just yelled at him like he knew he wanted to. 

Dylan’s shaky voice broke the silence when he said, “You promised you’d be careful.”

“I was with Belladonna,” Kieran replied his excuse sounding weak even to his own ears. 

“Belladonna would roll you off a roof for her own fun if she was bored,” Dylan snapped as he tightened the bandage with his hands that didn’t move away from Kieran’s shoulder. “If you’d died, she would have left your body to rot, Kieran. You get that right?!” Dylan’s voice wavered and Kieran could tell he was fighting to suppress tears. “I know you don’t care about your life, but could you at least pretend to give a shit for my sake?!”

Kieran finally turned to look at Dylan. He wasn’t crying. He hadn’t cried since he was the small teenager hiding under his blanket when they’d first arrived. Kieran had resigned himself to the fact that when Dylan stopped growing, he was going to be taller than him, probably watery too. He may not be crying but his eyes were red, and watery and that was all Kieran could focus on. 

“Oh, darling,” he said as he cupped Dylan’s face and ran his thumb over his cheekbone. He paused, not wanting to make a promise he couldn’t keep. “I can try.” He moved to kiss him, but lancing pain shot through his side causing him to kiss. 

Dylan fussed over him. “Stop moving. I’ve wrapped it, but it still needs to heal.”

Kieran laughed as he dropped his arm and the pain ebbed away. “How can I when you look so beautiful?”

Dylan glared at him as he brushed Kieran’s hair back. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” he said as he leaned into him to apply a gentle kiss to his lips. 

* * *

It had started with the books the Messenger and Belladonna had left on Dylan’s desk. They were on things like anatomy, or how to treat injuries, or even the odd book on pressure points. Kieran had hoped it meant Dylan was being trained to be the in-house medic. He knew he’d always wanted to be a doctor and he trusted Dylan with his care because he always wanted to help. Besides, though he could pack a punch, no doubt, guns or swords or knives had never looked right in his hands. If he was the in-house medic, it meant he would be staying close and Kieran was glad for that. 

He should have known better than to hope in a place like this. 

Kieran struggled to sleep without Dylan in their bed made of their two bunks pressed together in the center of the room. The past week had been stressful, and awful, and all he wanted to to have his - he just wanted Dylan back.

He was gone for longer and longer periods of time now, sometimes not even returning until dawn had already come. On those days he would be silent at breakfast, absent at lunch and by dinner a walking specter. On those nights he would jolt awake wide eyed and panicked until Kieran could soothe him back to sleep. This was getting out of hand. 

Rubbing a hand over his eyes, Kieran sighed deeply trying to get comfortable when he was interrupted by the door creaking open.

“Dylan?”

The white haired teen’s face was hidden in the dark. “Kieran? What are you still doing awake?”

“It’s hard to sleep without you mon amour, you know that,” he said as he lifted himself on his elbow pulling the blankets back to invite Dylan to join him. “Come here.”

Dylan’s voice sounded tight, almost strangled, and he hesitated beside the bed before crawling under the blanket. His hair was still dripping wet and the trail he’d left caught the light through the window. He was freezing to the touch. 

Kieran swore under his breath as he reached for a second blanket to tuck around his body. “Jesus, was the hot water out?” he teased, but it fell flat even in his own ears. 

It was a little worrying that Dylan didn’t complain as Kieran adjusted him, tucking his head under his chin (Dylan always complained that it was too stuffy and hot and always shuffled to face away from Kieran but still pressed against him) and tangled their legs together as Kieran brought Dylan’s hands to his face.

Kieran’s intention had been to breathe warmth into them but he was stopped by the strong smell of copper and the sight of Dylan’s bruised and bleeding knuckles. Recently, there had been new books on Dylan’s desk. They’d been books on information extraction. He was so good at keeping people alive, surely they hadn’t--He was broken out of his musing by the sob that escaped Dylan’s throat. 

Kieran found that all his questions from before weren’t as important as he thought. Dylan told him in bits and pieces. He’d been observing for the past week, studying, but tonight, tonight the Messenger had turned it over to him.

The bastard had said he needed practical experience.

Belladonna had said he was a natural.

Dylan confessed that for the first time, he hadn’t been afraid.

Kieran said nothing. There was nothing to say. He simply kissed the top of Dylan’s head as he attempted to sooth him from the reality of this life. Protecting him was impossible but he could offer him a small comfort.

* * *

Kieran and Dylan lingered in the train station, watching the pounding rain outside. The damp winter was turning into an even damper spring, the March rain was still biting cold as they stood in a sheltered alcove, near the train that Dylan would soon be boarding. Normally, they would have sent him by boat, but the unusual stormfront that had settled over the city made leaving almost impossible. It meant that instead of sailing out with Tim and his boys, Dylan would be traveling with Belladonna and the circus until she dropped him off wherever he was headed.

Neither knew where he was going, nor how long he’d be gone for, only that he would be gone. 

“You sure you got everything?” Kieran said, adjusting and smoothing the straps of Dylan’s bag. It had surprised Dylan how the contents of a life could fit in a suitcase and a backpack. They had packed it together before leaving their room for the final time. Kieran would be moving into his own place tonight. Everything he owned was being packed for him because the idea of stepping into the room they’d shared for six years alone was unbearable. He’d had Dylan memorize the address on the way to the station so if he ever came back Dylan knew where to find him. 

He nodded, tears running down his face as he hiccupped. “Yeah. I also have the drawings and photos so they won’t get wet,” he said between tears as he tapped his breast pocket. 

Kieran nodded back. “Good. I can’t have you forgetting how pretty I am.” The joke fell flat, the tears coming faster. He fixed Dylan’s cap before holding his face brushing away the tears. “It’ll be okay. Mon amour, Darling, Sweetheart.” Each endearment was punctuated with a searing kiss, as he tried to memorize the feel of Dylan’s lips before their separation. The memory would be tainted by the taste of salt.

Dylan pulled Kieran into a crushing, desperate hug. “I don’t want to leave. I don’t want to leave you Kieran,” he said quietly, the tears never stopping, mixing with the rainwater that had soaked Kieran’s shirt and jacket.

“I know you don’t Dylan. I know. But we’ll see each other again,” Kieran said as he squeezed him back. A shaky laugh slipped out of him. “And you can show me photos of all the places you see when you get back.”

“Kieran,” Dylan said as he pulled back and grabbed his face. The sadness in his eyes were overwhelming as Dylan kissed him, hard and bruising. The whistle of the train broke them apart, both gasping for air. “Promise me. Promise me you’ll stay alive. Promise me,” Dylan brought their foreheads together, fighting back tears this time. “Promise me you won’t forget me.”

Kieran’s voice was thick. “Never,” he said. “I couldn’t forget you. I won’t.”

The train whistled again, signaling it was about to leave. 

Dylan wiped at his face and Kieran gave him one last kiss before Dylan had to leave or miss the train.

He disappeared into a compartment but not before looking back and waving once. Kieran waved back from his place near the tracks and he stayed until the train was long gone.

He didn’t bother with the umbrella as he walked to his apartment near the bridge. Any wetness on his face could just as easily be attributed to rain rather than tears.

His apartment was warm and solid, and he looked around at the furniture that had been delivered just yesterday. He sat heavily on his new couch, surrounded by boxes, and the thought that he should start unpacking came to him. He wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway.

The first box box he opened was labeled art. He had thought it would contain his art supplies but instead on top he found one of the few framed photos he owned. It was wrapped protectively in brown paper. Dylan had taken it shortly after he’d turned nineteen. It showed the two of them leaning against the shed on a warm afternoon when the sun was bright and the air warm. He’d taken a couple of shots but the best one was the two of them pressed against each other, heads almost touching but still staring at the camera. Kieran liked it best because it was one of the few that wasn’t blurry from them moving around so it was the easiest to draw. He would hang that in the office so he could see it everyday. Underneath it, was a smaller package, also wrapped in the same brown paper.

As he unwrapped it, Kieran felt his throat tighten and he struggled to breath. It was a small framed photograph of Dylan’s favorite picture. It had been taken at the same time as the other, but it was blurred. The Dylan in the photo was laughing and shoving at the Kieran in the photo who had his arms around him and was kissing his cheek.

The strangled sound that escaped Kieran’s throat sounded like dying. It was guttural, and contained all of his anguish and misery. Once it escaped the tears came hard and fast, much like the rain outside and his wails soon filled his new apartment as he fell apart holding the picture of a past him who didn’t know how badly a heart could break.

‘I’ll see him again. I will. I’ll see you again Dylan. I promise.’


End file.
